


Five things, that according to Neal, are bathrooms

by Fedora Of Adorableness (TheTimelessChild0)



Category: White Collar
Genre: 5+1 Things, Awkwardness, Crack, Friendship, Peeing Into Things That Are Not a Toilet, Post-Episode: s02e09 Point Blank, Post-Episode: s03e11 Checkmate, Post-Episode: s04e03 Diminishing Returns, Season 2, Urination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26801296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/Fedora%20Of%20Adorableness
Summary: 5 times Neal pissed where hedamn wellwanted; and one time he did it because Peter told him to.
Kudos: 13
Collections: WC²





	1. Trashcan

When a case took the pair to St Louis, Missouri, Peter jumped with joy. It was where Neal had grown up for the entirety of his early life. Every aspect of Neal that couldn’t be put down to resenting the system which took his father away, or natural brilliance and optimism, had to originate here. The Midwest had a part in shaping the greatest con man of all time. 

So, of course, the first thing he did was book a hotel close to several schools, extend the stay and call the Marshals. And not just because of the anklet. 

They were just walking in the park, near the Gateway Arch when Neal broke the silence. 

“I remember taking a field trip up there once. Everyone else was bored. While I kept tripping over things, staring into my View-Master,” he chuckled.

“Looking with your eyes didn’t strike your fancy?” Burke commented.

“Well, I was 8 and afraid of heights, so,  _ no _ ,” Neal noted.

“Maybe the other kids were bored because the bus ride was long,” Peter suggested. It was also a sneaky way to get an idea of the distance between the arch and the specific school in question..

“We walked. 20 minutes is a lot for small legs, but I had all the other buildings to keep me company,” Caffrey smiled. 

“Ah, so you weren’t looking at where you were going,” he remarked quietly.

“Why are you so interested in a field trip?” Neal frowned.

“I’m not, I’m interested in St. Louis. Say; if you looked at the buildings, you think you could retrace your steps,  _ back to school _ ?” Peter proposed.

“Oh, absolutely,” he answered honestly.

“Great, let’s go!”

“No,” Neal said firmly.

“Why not?” the Suit wondered.

“Why not? Because, it’s awkward, embarrassing, and so totally not James Bond,” James Bonds complained, flipping his hat and increasing his pace, heading back to the hotel.

“You just don’t want me to see how  _ cute _ you were,” Peter smirked.

Neal stopped. He opened his mouth to object, but couldn’t come up with a single argument to the contrary. He got flustered and looked at the ground.

“Can’t imagine it would do any wonders to my street cred,” he pointed out.

“You stole ancient manuscripts using carrier pigeons; I don’t think you  _ have _ street cred to worry about,” Burke remarked. “Look, the least you can do is show me that picture of you with a gap in your teeth,”

“Oh, that’s not the worst photo of me out there. When I was 12, I used to put gel in my hair to look like Uncle Jesse from Full House,” Neal told him.

“How’d that turn out?”

“Follow me and I’ll show ya,” the con man beckoned.

* * *

Beech Lane Public School had its location in a quaint brown building in the suburbs.

The little boy then named Danny Brooks was beyond adorable. You wouldn’t think this kid was capable of any wrongdoing besides pulling a cat’s tail.

“How is this  _ you _ ? How do you go from that to...that?!” Peter pointed at Neal’s anklet.

“I can assure you, if you gave that guy an anklet, the first thing he’d do is put stickers all over it,” Neal smiled, flipping through the yearbook from age 7 to year 7. 

There, in all his glory, was the parolee playboy in prepubescence.

“Oh my god. You look so...normal,”

“Really? It looks as if I  _ ironed _ it,” Neal pointed at the tufts of hair sticking out like a surfboard.

“It’s not that bad. You could be the new poster boy for cornstarch,” Peter stated. “It suits you. Seems like a fun kid,” he closed the yearbook, and patted Neal on the head.

Caffrey was busy rewiring his hair with surgical precision, when a voice broke into the conversation.

“Oh, he certainly _was_ ,” she agreed.

They turned to find a woman in a ponytail.

“Hello, Neal. Did you ever find Fuzzy Wuzzy?”

“Yes, I did thank you. And his entire family. Didn’t seem to like me much, though. His uncle kept biting me,” he informed her.

“Irene Stevens, nice to meet you,” Mrs Stevens shook Burke’s hand.

“Special Agent Peter Burke, I’m Neal’s handler,” Peter introduced himself.

“So was I. Once he starts _running_ , he’s hard to catch,” Irene smiled. 

“I would’ve slipped right out of  _ his _ arms,” Neal joked, indicating the suit.

“Oh, so I didn’t need the SWAT team, just John Cena,” the agent quipped. “Who’s Fuzzy Wuzzy?”

“Pet caterpillar. Ran away when I was 9- Spent all of 4th grade looking for him. Remember that bridge I once drew? That’s where he went. Just needed some shade,”

“Or perhaps he was _throwing_ shade,” Peter noted.

Neal hugged Mrs Stevens, who was now slightly shorter than him. She offered to show them Caffrey’s classroom, which Neal objected to by waving frantically, to no avail.

* * *

The clock had a bright green worm on it, explaining Neal’s fascination with oblong invertebrates.

“One time, I really wanted to measure the earthworms, but I wasn’t allowed to take the ruler out of the classroom, so the custodian handed me some measuring tape. I wrote all the different lengths down in a notebook,” he mentioned with fondness. “Missouri has some real Stretch Armstrong worms. Along with an epidemic of worms being split in half. Accidentally...and less so,”

Peter’s eye fell towards the trash can to the left of the chalkboard. It had a big laminated sign taped to it;  _ TRASHCAN. _

“Why does the trashcan have a sign?” he asked Neal.

Mrs Stevens laughed slightly.

“So students can tell what it is,” Caffrey shrugged.

“What 12-year-old doesn’t know that’s a trash can?” 

“Well, actually,  _ Neal _ had some trouble with the concept; remember?” Stevens hinted with a smirk.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he remarked, awkwardly.

Peter looked at his CI, bemused.

“Alright, I’ll explain; We were taking a test, and I  _ really  _ needed to use the restroom. I was practically bursting at the seams,” Neal began.

“You always had a love for hyperbole,” Irene noted.

The con man rolled his eyes. 

“ _ Anyway _ , the guy monitoring the test wouldn’t let me, because there was too little time left before everyone could go home. Needless to say, I couldn’t wait that long. So, since I wasn’t allowed to use the bathroom in the hallway, I  _ improvised _ ...and used the bathroom inside the classroom instead. I just stood up, walked over to the trashcan, pulled my pants down and went,”

“There’s always another way,” Peter chimed in.

“Exactly,” Neal smiled.

“Didn’t think it started with a _full bladder_ ,” Burke noted. 

“Didn’t know it would evolve into high value antiquities theft,” Stevens agreed.

“You have to be pragmatic to live in the Midwest,” Caffrey commented.

“ _Sure_ , let’s go with that.”


	2. Houseplant

Neal went towards the front door of the Burke residence, to find that his ears detected no Burkes residing inside. He leaned on the wall until he got bored. Then, he got very bored and started snooping. The interior looked no messier than the last time he stopped by. Either El had done a thorough cleaning, or finally succeeded in getting her husband to keep crumbs and coffee stains off the couch. Regardless; the ottoman was immaculate.

He went around the back, and sat down on the patio, drinking invisible tea. He was almost finished with the cup, when the action reminded him of all the hot beverages he’d had earlier.

He tried the back door. It was locked like the front. Neal returned to the front of the house to find the windows sealed shut as well. 

Caffrey parked his Devore on the Rai stone, crossing his legs. His ankle started bobbing in the air.

He did the tango, waltz and moon-walking, before moving on to _swing_. He checked his watch and listened to the driveway, while hopping up and down. 

Neal got eager enough to peer out towards the other houses, in case any neighbours walked out; who knew the schedule that he just missed, in connection to arrivals and departures. 

His hands were in his crotch, holding on. At least, that’s what they were doing when multiple sprinklers activated. One hand switched places from between his legs to being in charge of keeping them together. 

The con man’s leather shoes clicked on the concrete impatiently. 

“ _Nope_! Can’t do it. This isn’t working,” he resolved, searching the garden for a suitable shrub. 

He found a fern next to the fence that would do just fine. Neal unzipped and sprayed his bodily waste with intensity, soaking it.

This was what transpired as Peter and Elizabeth got out of their car. 

El was oblivious at first, curious as to what Neal was doing just staring at her fern. She called his name. He turned around, and smiled at her, replying cheerfully. 

“Oh my god,” Peter registered his astonishment, looking away instinctively.

“Is he...” Mrs Burke checked, though most confident in the answer. 

“Yup, so let’s give him some space,” the Suit nudged his wife to move towards the back, until the sound of a sprinkling stream subsided.

“All good?” Burke asked his CI politely, who nodded. 

“So, Neal; care to explain what you were doing to my plant?” Elizabeth asked, folding her arms.

“Watering it?” Neal remarked simply. 

“That’s what the sprinkler’s for,” Peter reminded him.

“The door was locked, I couldn’t wait,” Caffrey stated.

“You could’ve picked it,” his handler pointed out.

“I didn’t want to set off the alarm,” Neal replied.

“You know the code,” Elizabeth countered.

“I figured you changed it after I guessed it,” Caffrey tried.

“Please, Peter can hardly remember the old alarm,” El laughed.

Neal smiled sheepishly. So the Suit came to his aid.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I appreciate you taking such good care of our plants,” he complimented.

“It was my pleasure,” 

Peter hummed, putting an arm around his consultant, kindly leading him up the door.

As soon as the door opened, Satchmo shot out towards the fern, sniffed around and _signed his name in the address book_ like the human had.

“That’s not at all undignifying,” Neal murmured under his breath, blushing.

Meanwhile, the Burkes were breaking down with laughter. 

Like pet, like owner...


	3. Sleepwalking Part 1- Vase

The first time it happened, El felt she had made the right call having Neal stay over. She didn’t think he’d appreciate if it had happened in front of Mozzie; whom she knew would look out for him while asleep in that particular circumstance. 

That fateful afternoon in the airport was fading away, and the con man was coming out of his shell. The very shell he’d deny having placed whenever Peter mentioned it. But, nevertheless, the Burkes had succeeded in coercing him away from the socially secure solitude of his penthouse suite. Elizabeth had made him tea, and they had talked until he fell asleep. He still seemed restless, so she tucked in the blanket a little closer, before heading off to dreamland herself.

Of course, while his brain went off to dreamland, his legs had no intention of staying on the sofa. The cold air seeped through his pyjamas and woke up his bladder. Now, usually, this would be the part where Neal woke up as well. But that hadn’t been ordinary tea. It was chamomile. Designed to send you into deep sleep. And Caffrey hadn’t been that _unconscious_ in a while. He grunted and shifted. 

* * *

El’s sleep was interrupted as well, when she remembered all the tea, but not whether Neal had gotten rid of it before bed. She had no choice but to wake her husband.

  
“I didn’t hear the door close, he’s still in the house,” Peter sighed, turning over, eyes slowly cracking open.

His main concern wasn’t Neal running away, rather catching a cold whilst strolling through the neighbourhood, wearing only a thin blanket for insulation.

“Do you remember if Neal used the bathroom before bed?” she whispered urgently.

“Of course, I was in there with him,” he informed her, massaging his exhausted neck.

“No...that’s not what I’m asking. Did he _pee_?” Elizabeth clarified.

“What makes you think I have the _slightest_ idea of _when_ Neal does that?” Burke groused.

“Hon,” she hinted, knowingly.

“Probably...not. I needed to get the grime from the van off me, and when I stepped out of the shower, he was gone. Unless he went before he brushed his teeth, which is unlikely; He and I both _drain the tank_ as the last thing we do,” he noted. “Better make sure the door is open wide enough, it’ll be a mad dash upstairs in the morning. Dibs goes to the mad hatter with all the empty teacups in the dishwasher,”

The Suit stepped towards the bedroom door, when he heard the sound of creaking. As if he wasn’t the only one out of bed at 2 AM. He opened the door and looked down from the stairs. Neal was just standing there, looking around. His eyes seemed partially closed, as if the light from the windows was too bright. As a matter of fact, it was actually because he was _technically_ still asleep.

“Neal?” There was no reply. 

“What are you doing up?” he asked with worry, albeit a softer tone this time. Still no answer.

“Where is it...I just wanna go...back to sleep,” the con man murmured.

Peter didn’t hear the exhaustion in the word ‘go’. So he assumed there was no _intended_ pause in the sentence.

“Well, that’s fine, the couch is right there. Just take a few steps back,” he advised.

Neal started with his left foot, and bumped into the leg of the couch. It told his brain that he was going the wrong way. He grabbed the side of the sofa and strode forward. Straight into the wall, knocking over trinkets.

He rearranged them and then grabbed himself.

“You need to pee? Ah, right, the tea...come on,” the agent put his hand on his consultant’s shoulder, attempting to guide him. But he remained still, dragging his feet around, feeling his way around the living room. It hit a different solid object; a small step ladder, for rearranging books. 

Peter couldn’t shove the man while he was sleepwalking. So he just observed the wiles and whims of his fatigued friend. Caffrey moved the ladder towards the shelves and stepped up. Believing he was in the upstairs bathroom, he searched at the correct height for porcelain. And he found what he sought in the form of a large blue vase. He nudged himself backwards to avoid splash-back and began fumbling with his imaginary belt. 

“Oh, no no.. _no_ , that’s NOT....” Burke tried, his words eventually drowned by the sound of trickling.

“Well, it is now,” he sighed in resignation. Though he doubted Neal was aware of his company, Peter still turned his back while his friend relieved himself.

The show was accompanied by sighs, hums and short exhales. 

“Oh, god, yes...that’s much better,” Neal remarked, as if to note the fact the stream wasn’t subsiding any time soon. 

“Last time I drink that much tea before _bed_ ,” the young man breathed. He stepped off the ladder and headed straight to the sink. Despite the earlier... _misunderstanding_...even in his sleep, Neal managed to locate the kitchen and its associated faucet with ease. Then, he just got back into bed, as his usual floppy immovable self.

* * *

Neal woke up, finally, stretching happily. That tea had been magical. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and turned, to look for Satchmo. Instead, he found Peter, standing behind him. 

“Rise comes before shine, Goldilocks,” he remarked warmly.

“Glad I’m not her. This couch is uncomfortable enough, I’d hate to try another one,” Caffrey quipped, leaning back on his elbows.

“Well, then why don’t you get off of it? One soaked in urine would be worse,” Peter noted.

Neal looked at him indignantly. “Very funny...I actually don’t need to go all that _badly_. Think my brief trip to the throne in the middle of the night helped that,” Neal remarked, smiling at his sense of calm.

“Yes, I _heard_...and so did the neighbours,” Burke joked.

“Oh sorry, did I wake you?” he apologised instantly, chuckling at himself. Peter looked down, containing his own laughter. 

  
“Little bit. Barely made a difference,” the Suit shrugged casually.

Neal looked down as well, and recalled a dream.

“It was weird. I was here...I got up from the couch, stepped towards the large blue vase, and...” the CI froze. It couldn’t be. _Could it?_ He put his right leg out. The movement had an eerie familiarity to it. And he knew, with absolute certainty that he had emptied his bladder at night, after falling asleep once. 

“Oh, god,” he baulked with dread.

“And then...what?” Peter feigned curiosity.

“Oh no, god no, tell me I didn’t,” Neal covered his eyes. Suddenly he didn’t think it was a dream. The vase was new, after all. It hadn’t been recorded by his eyes enough to constitute a _fictional_ backdrop in his mind.

“Tell me I didn’t pee in the vase!” he moaned.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Agent Burke suggested. Caffrey turned around and immediately noticed what was missing from the shelf. 1 large blue vase. 

Both hands covered his face. He whined louder in embarrassment, face turning red with regret.

“Peter, I am so so very, _incredibly_ sorry,” he apologised profusely, purposefully not locking eyes with the recipient. When he did, he gulped in shame. This was not how he wanted to repay his hosts. 

“Please, it’s fine. Not hard to clean. It’s just drying in the windowsill,” Peter pointed around the corner, referring to the window in the kitchen. He patted Neal on the shoulder, reassuring him.

“When you’ve gotta go, you’ve gotta go,” Caffrey quipped.

“Conscious or unconscious,” his handler agreed.

“At least I didn’t do it on the couch,” Neal acknowledged. They laughed.


	4. Sleepwalking Part 2- Sandbox

If Peter had been superstitious, like Mozzie, he’d say he jinxed it the last time. He was awoken from his slumber by a ringing, very different from the _beeping_ of his alarm clock. It was 3 AM, and the ringing came from his phone.

He picked it up. It showed Neal walking away from the house in the wrong direction; the right one being the route between their house and June’s. The Marshals registered this as a sort of pipe path through streets that would otherwise be outside his radius. 

Burke jumped out of bed, put on his jacket, the badge still in the pocket, and finally woke Mrs Burke. 

  
“Neal’s heading off somewhere; out of bounds,” he explained. 

  
“What? Why? Where is he going?” Elizabeth asked, putting on her blue robe. 

“No idea, but we have to stop him,” Peter replied plainly. 

* * *

They got in the car, deciding to ask questions once Caffrey was buckled in. The Taurus hummed along the path taken by the “fugitive” until he appeared in front of them.

Peter opened the window.

“Neal? What are you doing?” he questioned. The con man did not respond. It was this that drew the agent’s attention towards Neal’s eyes. They were partially closed.

He drove around the corner and parked. 

“Is he...asleep?” El wondered. 

“Technically,” 

They followed Caffrey to a small park. The Marshals had been notified of the “situation” and thus turned off the anklet until a reasonable amount of time passed for Burke to recover his CI.

Neal walked over to the sandbox, feeling the edge with his left foot. Once he was subconsciously confident that he’d found _the right place_ , he stepped up on the plank surrounding the sand, and fiddled with his pyjamas, believing them to be jeans.

Peter spotted the action for what it was. “Ooh,” he quipped.

“Honey, I think I know what he’s doing here,” 

“What?” Elizabeth was no less confused. As soon as she’d said that, the con man pulled down his pants, underpants and aimed. 

“His business,” Burke explained, over the beginning sound of _trickling_.

“Oh!” his wife echoed his surprise, even more so. She chuckled.

“That’ll make a fun interrogation in the morning,” the Suit noted. Spraying down a _sandbox_? There was definitely a story there...

Neal finished with a smile, searched his imaginary pockets for a bottle of water, sighing in frustration. He walked resigned, back from whence he came, when he paused. 

Peter’s phone rang again, a longer sound this time. It was the Marshals. 

Caffrey blinked awake. “Peter? El? What are you doing here? Actually, why am I here?” he remarked. Burke picked up the phone. “Yeah, we got him right here. All done with his...nap,” 

The agent left to give some more information, _still emitting one tiny little detail_ , while Elizabeth dealt with Neal. She wrapped a blanket around him. 

“When did you ever think to come to the park, in crisp fall weather without a coat on?” she sulked.

“It probably wasn’t this cold in my dream,” Neal pointed out. 

“No, you were hydrating, weren’t you?” Elizabeth commented.

“What are you talking about?” he yawned. 

“Look familiar?” she pointed at the sandbox.

_It did_ , as a matter of fact. Neal’s eyes got wide as the memory struck him with force.

“Oh god,” he turned thoroughly red and closed his eyes, head down in embarrassment.

“Our cute little cat-burglar found a litter box,” El laughed.

“I knew it was a mistake the first time...I should’ve quit while I was _ahead_ ,” he murmured, fiddling with the hair on the back of his head awkwardly.

“You don’t listen to yourself but you listen to me. I don’t know whether to be flattered or confused,” Peter noted, stroking Caffrey on the shoulder. 

“Flattered. I’m still confused enough for both of us,” his wife recommended.

“You know, you almost made it to the _actual_ bathroom this time. Just turned left instead of right,” he informed his now conscious consultant.

“Can we go home, please? This blanket isn’t _quilted_ ,” Neal requested, shivering; and not because he just peed.

“Hmm...appropriate phrasing,” Peter quipped. 

Neal pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed exasperatedly.

  
“I need a nap,” he grumbled, getting in the car. 

“Sure. There’s one on standby at home,”

* * *

Neal tried to keep his eyes open until they got home, and was helped by his friends asking him a question. 

  
“Before you slip back into sloth mode, why don’t you tell me the story of why you defiled a play area _on purpose_?” Burke inferred. 

“If you didn’t notice on the way over here, you probably didn’t realise what landmark is nearby. It pertains to your earliest investigation into me,” Caffrey hinted.

“Your old apartment?” Peter guessed. Neal nodded. 

“I used to walk around that park all the time. One of those times, it was late in the day and I really had to use the restroom. But since I just _knew_ for sure and certain, that the portapotties had gotten _stinky as hell_ and no one was around to stop me...I made it rain in the Sahara instead. Besides, I figured all the little kids had done the same before me, I was just following the example of the next generation,” he shrugged.

“Basically, that was the start of a slightly unsanitary habit of mine. And my first misdemeanor...I think, I didn’t exactly consult the law books beforehand,” Neal retold.

“Either way, it’s past the statute of limitations by now, we can consider it part of why you got 4 years,” Peter proposed. Neal rolled his eyes.

“Can we stop talking about it?” he glared, getting increasingly uncomfortable with the subject matter. They shut up. 

“Great,” the con man gave a thumbs up and leaned on the window tiredly. 

The next few nights, all available lock-picks were under Special Agent Peter Burke’s pillow.


	5. The Ocean

With all the stress brought on by Neal’s upcoming commutation hearing, Peter and Elizabeth both felt it was a good time to introduce Neal to the very freedom he was fighting for. So, catching the Marshals at a good time, they managed to secure themselves a weekend of boomtastic beach time, outside Caffrey’s radius of course.

The water was cold but not excessively so. Though, the con man’s bladder didn’t particularly enjoy it. So, he had no choice but to do a doggie paddle further out in the water and  _ let it go _ ...

Peter was trying not to fall asleep from the lack of waves, when he looked fondly at his wife; who was either constipated or holding her breath. 

“Hon? Everything okay?” Burke immediately worried. A smirk became more prominent, revealing that she was laughing. Or rather, trying to do so silently.

“What’s so funny?” he queried.

“Have you seen where Neal’s gone?” El asked innocently. 

  
“Yeah, he’s right over there, just... _ relaxing, _ ” Peter replied. Then he realised what exactly was being relaxed...

He looked down, chuckling. 

“Do you think he knows?” she wondered, grinning.

“Not a chance,”

* * *

Neal eventually swam back to his friends. 

“The water is great for napping. Just what I needed,” he smiled at them.

Burke raised his eyebrows empathically.  _ Boy, did he really need it, **indeed**... _

“Feel better?” Elizabeth asked casually. 

“Much!” Caffrey confirmed with a sigh. Peter hummed amusedly, awaiting the penny dropping.

“Relieved?”

A small blush decorated Neal’s cheeks. He looked down, with an awkward chuckle.

“Well, yes..that _too_. How d’you know?” he asked with interest.

“How could we possibly miss it?” Peter quipped. 

“Honey, your face was _so_ _ obvious _ ,” his wife chimed in with an explanation, smiling widely. 

It was quite endearing how invisible Neal thought he was at all times. And how visible he was when peeing. 

“You kidding? I’ve seen that smile at least _ twice a day _ in the men’s room. I’d recognize it anywhere. Unmistakable,” Burke pointed out.

“Good thing it’s not crowded today, then,” Neal noted. 

“Hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go,” El reminded them. 

“You know what they say; when in Rome, do as the Romans. When in the sea...” he argued.

“Do as the fish,” Peter agreed. 

“Well, I was going to say  _ people  _ but sure, let’s go with fish,” Caffrey relented.

“Hey, he’s not wrong,” the Suit remarked. 

“It’s  _ where _ it ends up anyway,” Neal stated. They all erupted into laughter.

“You know, I’ve heard of another saying,” Peter mentioned casually, as his CI caught his breath. 

“What’s that?” he questioned, before getting splashed in the face.

“ _ Duck _ ,” Burke smirked. Neal did not hesitate with his revenge. 

It turned into a full-on  _ war _ ; and plenty of water was displaced in the process.  



	6. Elevator

In fairness, he should’ve stopped to think before getting in that elevator. In hindsight, he supposed it was a totally natural mistake. Even the most well-oiled machine _squeaks_ . Neal was just heading home for the day, when he passed the elevators; one of which opened. In actuality, he had been heading to the restroom _first,_ and foremost. And yes, in theory, he could’ve probably spared a second to send his handler off without him. 

But, it was inconvenient. So he just followed Peter inside. After all, he felt fine. Then he felt a pinch. Which was not entirely fine. Quite annoying actually. For some reason, his bladder had elected to speak up only when encased in metal, with no immediate exit. 

Which was still fine. He had no problem whatsoever subtly crossing his legs at the heel. And Neal was more than aware that there was a bathroom in the lobby he could use once they were far enough down. After all; it was the first thought that appeared when the doors closed.

“So what’s on the docket when you get home; another round of chess to win against June?” Peter asked casually.

“And maybe a glass of wine; if Mozzie left me any,” he replied with a chuckle.

“Well, you’re supposed to pair wine with cheese; since he can’t, he just drinks _more_ wine,” Burke noted.

“ _All_ the wine. There’s a fine line between being a whiner and wino. And it’s as thin as the hair on his head,” Neal quipped.

“Mozzie doesn’t have any hair,” the Suit pointed out.

“Exactly,”

They shared a laugh. 

“Mozzie isn’t homeless,” Peter remarked.

“Do you know where his home is?” Caffrey countered. Neal had his hands in his pockets, scratching the top of his thighs.

  
  


“No,”

The con man nodded, and his handler nodded back. There was silence. 

* * *

Neither of the men broke the silence with their words. The elevator interrupted the awkwardness by clanging to a halt.

“Excuse me?” Caffrey quipped at the ceiling politely.

Burke pressed the emergency call button. White noise was the only reply.

“Must be some kind of electrical problem, the connection’s been cut,” Peter noted.

“Well, that’s just _great_ ,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. Neal also crossed his legs tighter, shifting a bit. 

Peter was looking at Caffrey sympathetically at this time; the noise made his eyes flicker downward, to his consultant’s legs.

“Need to go to the bathroom?” he asked Neal kindly. He nodded, resigned.

Burke’s eyes crinkled in further sympathy. A memory resurfaced. Of the seconds before they stepped in this metal box of inefficiency together. Neal had been in front of the elevators, _except_ turned away. Signifying that he was not planning to take one...until _he_ arrived.

“Sorry,” Peter apologized.

“What for?”

“You were heading to the restroom, I cut you off,” he reminded him. 

  
“I cut myself off. I’m the one who did something stupid; I didn’t _have_ to follow you,” Neal stated, stroking his thighs. 

“That doesn’t sound so stupid. You’re,” Burke began, but was immediately cut off.

“If you’re about to call me _obedient_ , I’m calling you Mr Satchmo for a month,” Caffrey warned, staring at him seriously.

“Dependable,” Peter complimented.

“You know what isn’t? My bladder. Or this elevator,” Neal complained.

Now he had his hands clasped in his lap, pressing gently.

* * *

Neal made several attempts to manage his micturition requirement. He shifted more. He put his hands in his pockets to hold himself, and finally; he stood with uncrossed legs, jiggling. It was when he slid his hands between his legs to squeeze _momentarily_ for the third time, that Agent Burke made an executive decision. 

“Pick a corner,” he instructed simply.

“What?” Neal was snapped out of his visualisation of the bathroom he would eventually get access to.

“Go,” Peter elaborated, waving at their surroundings.

Caffrey stared. “It may have escaped your notice, but we are in an _elevator_ ,” he pointed out.

“No, for the next few minutes we are in a _restroom_ ,” Burke announced, emphatically.

“I’m not doing that here. Absolutely not,” Neal continued to object. 

“Neal, I just called the maintenance guys, it’s gonna be a couple of _hours_ ; you don’t have a choice,” he implored with concern.

"I can hold it," the con man insisted.

"Not for that long; no way. Not happening. Not physically possible," Peter argued. "Look; you're peeing in this elevator one way or another. That's just a fact. Up to you if it goes through your _pants_ first," he warned.

The con man rolled his eyes, then closed them, turning red. The point was made. The logic made sense. Clear cut reality. It was game over.

“Fine, I’ll do it. Turn around,” Neal pointed where he wished for his partner to stand; establishing needed distance. He picked the corner next to where Peter stood originally. It was sufficiently far from where he stood before, and would continue to stand until they could get out.

Luckily, enough time had passed for it not to be too difficult for Neal to _let go_ , albeit sparingly. It was a small sprinkling, that did help Caffrey a little.

“Want me to whistle?” Peter offered. 

“If it gets you to stop talking,” Neal groused, frustratedly, as his stream resumed its prior velocity. 

Burke began to whistle a simple tune, which he repeated simultaneously. That, and the fact he _really_ had to go, loosened all restraint. It was no longer possible for him to care.

Caffrey tilted his head back and basked in the feeling of tens of ounces of liquid leaving his body steadily. He sighed. Peter smiled. 

He eventually finished, shaking off and tucking himself back in. 

“That’s much better,” he acknowledged, frowning at his hands. “Only thing missing is...”

The Suit cleared his throat. Turning around to face his colleague, Neal spotted the hand sanitizer in the older man’s hand. 

“Thanks,” Caffrey registered his appreciation.

“When you gotta go, you gotta go,” Peter informed him, casually. As if there was nothing wrong with what he just did. 

Which, he supposed he had to admit, was reasonably true. Or possibly completely correct.

* * *

It had not been a particularly long meeting. Nevertheless, Neal was presently sitting with his legs tucked underneath his chair, ankles crossed, and thighs pressing together once. He put his clasped hands on his chair; and thus between his legs, casually, for support. Jones asked him a question, making him look up from the piece of paper in front of him. And subsequently drawing Peter’s attention further. Caffrey slid his hands apart, stroking his thighs before letting them rest on his belt. When he finished answering, Burke stepped in.

“Go on, we can manage without you,” he assured the CI. 

“Cool,” Neal smiled gratefully, getting out of his chair and swiftly exiting the room.

“What was that for?” Diana said, surprised, and a tad suspicious. 

“Look behind you,” was Peter’s suggestion. 

They did, and noticed Caffrey walking past both his desk and the elevators.

“Ah,” Jones got the idea. The Suit hummed in confirmation.

“How d’you know?” Berrigan questioned, curiously.

“I’m his handler. I can tell. _Always_.” he noted, smiling exclusively with his eyes.

The End.


End file.
